


Maybe My Luck Turned

by orphan_account



Series: Luck [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Adorable sickening fluff, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bossuet has shit luck, Everything happens for a reason, First Meeting, Fluff, High School AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bossuet starts a new school year at a new school with his old luck. How could anything good possibly happen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe My Luck Turned

**Author's Note:**

> I did this for the request of j/b/m first meeting. I didn't beta this, so I hope it's okay. Anyways, enjoy!

Bossuet was in a hurry. He was running around his new high school, try to find his classes. The map, class lists, and directions weren’t helping. How could a campus even be this big? And it wasn’t even a normal campus. It was all outdoors, though that didn’t matter much because it never rained anyways. What mattered was that it was outdoors and built into a hill with no sense of direction.

It’s not that on a good day he was good at finding his way around, but that he could do it with time. But time was not on his side right now. Nothing ever seemed to be on his side.

Bossuet had deemed himself The Person With The Worst Luck Ever. It all went downhill when he was first born. His mother had died giving birth to him, his father blamed him (rightfully so he thought), his sisters despised him, and his brothers used him for target practice. Nothing ever went his way.

Whenever he made friends and got comfortable, his family moved. Whenever he liked his teachers, they got sick and were replaced with horrible substitutes. Whenever he finally did his homework on time he forgot to turn it in. Whenever he was put into a group project it was with a bunch of slackers. It never ended well for him.

Bossuet coincidentally walked directly in front of a door to one of the seemingly thousands of classrooms when the door opened up. The door hit him pretty hard in the face. Hard enough to give him a bloody nose and an excuse for being late to the first class on the first day of school. 

Much to his surprise, the girl who opened up the door didn’t apologize or look sympathetic, just turned to him and said, “You’re kinda cute,” before bounding in the opposite direction. 

Bossuet stared at him, shocked at her audacity and nerve. She didn’t even apologize! She just… hit on me? Ohhh. She hit on me with a pick up line and with the door. That cleared that part up a little, but Bossuet was still confused. That girl thought he was cute? That’s odd. And hopeful. Maybe this time he would actually have a chance, unlike usual. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad afterall. 

Meanwhile, his bloody nose had healed itself. Oh well for that excuse. When he turned to see what classroom he had gotten lost in front of, he discovered that it was miraculously the one he was supposed to be in! His luck really had turned!

He paused to look around at where he was. He was in a sort of rectangular square. Everything was made of old bricks, with an archway on two different walls leading onwards into the maze. There was between two and five different classrooms on each wall. Through one archway he could see something that looked like an ancient gate to a gorgeous garden. Through the other he saw some lockers, some stairs, and another classroom. All of this was starting to hurt his head, trying to map out everything.

It was burning hot outside, so Bossuet was now ready to begin a new school, a new school year, and a new hell. Right as he turned around, he was drenched by something cool, sticky, and clear. Not the best way to start off, especially after earlier. 

Trying to figure out what happened while being partially unable to see, Bossuet bumped into a tiny kid carrying an empty container about half the size of him. This kid had jet-black hair that was all neatly combed, surprisingly. He seemed at least slightly paranoid about something, though what that was was unclear. He half expected this tiny boy not to apologize either, but was pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh geez! I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to spill that on you at all. Would you like some help cleaning it up? I know I should help, it’s just that some people don’t like getting help. Either way, at least you’re clean now!” This boy said to Bossuet, increasingly confused with every word, “Right, sorry. I’m assuming you’re one of the new kids? Well I’m Joly. That’s not my full name, but just call me that. What’s your chosen name?”

Bossuet stared at Joly in disbelief and confusion, momentarily forgetting the fact that he was covered in some weird goo. “What do you mean by chosen name? You can choose your name for yourself?”

“Well… yes. What do you want to be called?”

“Bossuet. Call me Bossuet. And what exactly am I covered in?”

“Oh right. You don’t have to worry. It was just my hand sanitizer.”

“I’m covered in hand sanitizer?!?”

“Yes. Now come on, this is my class also and we shouldn’t be late. And maybe later I’ll introduce you to some of my friends! We have a meeting later today which I can take you to. As long as you don’t like our government, you’re welcome. Do you like our government?”

Bossuet thought back to his father and his ideals. His advocacy for stricter laws against minorities and oppressed people, his blatant disregard for the opinions and feelings of other in return for rising up through power in the government. 

“No. Not at all. Never.”

“Good. Let’s go to class now!”

 

Joly and Bossuet had nearly the same exact schedule, which was extremely good for Bossuet. Throughout the course of the day, he learned a ton about Joly and in return told him about himself. The two of the had become good friend during that monumentally important first day.

“Come on!” Joly urged him as they rushed to meet up with Joly’s other friends, “You don’t want to see them angry.”

As they burst through the door into the dimly lit backroom of the cafe, Bossuet recognized one of the three girls sitting together, legs spread wide, arms out, and braiding each other’s hair.

Joly introduced him to everyone, but none of the girls even bothered to look at him. He was slightly offended, but decided to take matters into his own hands. He marched up to the one who hit him in the face earlier that day and shouted and her, “You!”

“Yes?” she replied to him, completely calm. It was unsettling, seeing how normal she was with screaming and shouting.

Recognition finally crossed her features (nice ones at that) after several seconds of awkward staring, “Oh it’s you again. My earlier statement still stands. And how about a date? It’ll be good, I promise. Call me Chetta by the way.”

Joly strode forward towards them, and began shouting at Chetta, “I was going to ask him out! I thought we agreed the next one was mine! You always get them! I never do!”

Bossuet glanced back and forth between them, an idea slowly forming in his mind. “This may sound kind of weird, but what if we all went on a date? You know, like together? As in a threesome, just less sex? Or is that just a really bad idea?”

Joly stared at him before speaking up, “No, no. That a great idea. I’m in.”

“So am I,” Chetta agreed, “Friday work for both of you?”

“Yes” they said unanimously.

Bossuet smiled unknowingly at the realization he finally had everything he had ever wanted. For once, luck was on his. With this thought, he occupied himself for the rest of the evening.


End file.
